


This Goodly Gift You Shall Command

by Cerberusia



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21504409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: Luke caught up to me in my dreams.
Relationships: Luke Castellan/Percy Jackson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 189
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2019





	This Goodly Gift You Shall Command

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salazarastark (niewanyin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/gifts).



> Title from _Alison Gross_.

Luke caught up to me in my dreams.

I'd had prophetic dreams before; I think all demigods do. It's useful, sometimes. But people turning up in my dreams deliberately so they could talk to me...that was a new one.

I knew it was him pretty much instantly. I mean _really_ him, not just my dreaming mind conjuring a body and slapping a random face on it. The dream had that edge that prophetic dreams usually had, the bit where it's a bit _too_ real. Except I wasn't watching Nico, or spying on Kronos and his evil henchmen to get an idea of their plans; I was in my own room, lying in my own bed, and Luke Castellan was in front of me.

For a moment, I even thought I was awake. I scrambled halfway up and said something, a couple of swearwords mashed together or possibly just a yell of confusion; but it was loud, loud enough to wake my Mom. But nobody stirred.

I was tangled in my bedsheets, and I didn't have Riptide. I _always_ had Riptide, I even slept with it under my pillow these days - but no, Riptide wasn't there.

"Give me my sword, you coward!" That would wake Mom up, for sure. But Luke just looked at me. The moonlight caught on his scar. The cropped hair made him look almost military. He looked tired.

"Thought you were better off without it," he said mildly. Backbiter wasn't in his hand either. God, he looked so - so _strong_ standing there, so grown-up and handsome and brave. I hated him desperately. I couldn't even think of anything to say that could express how I felt, so I kept silent and watched him. I wasn't in the ideal position to launch myself at him, but I could at least sit up and start scooting to the edge of the bed, ready to stand up. I was painfully aware that I was at a disadvantage. But then, my rational brain pointed out, he hadn't drawn his sword or tried to kill me, which suggested that wasn't why he'd come.

"Why are you here, Luke?" I asked after a long pause in which we just looked at each other. I knew what he saw - a scrawny teenager in pyjamas, probably with unsightly bedhead - and didn't like it. Without my sword, I didn't have a hope of overpowering him in a fistfight, and we both knew it. I was going to have to strategize my way out of this one.

"Just to talk. No, don't get up." And he sat down on the bed beside me. He was suddenly so close, and smiling at me a little, and for a breathless moment I was twelve again and in awe of the super-cool nineteen-year-old with the scar who'd been so nice to me. Then the light shifted and the smile looked insincere.

"Sure, sure, we can talk. About you trying to kill me, and Annabeth, and a bunch of other people - yeah, OK, I'm sure we've got _lots_ to talk about." OK, I was pissed. And Luke sitting down had aborted my progress in easing my legs off the side of the bed. "And why you're here instead of with Kronos - I'd be really interested to hear _that_ one."

"I'm not. Really here, I mean," explained Luke. His blue eyes were fixed on mine. The night seemed very still, Mom hadn't come - and that was when I knew for definite it was a dream. Fine, fine. Well, not fine. I didn't need to worry about not having Riptide or my Mom coming to check on me, but that just threw up a load of questions about why Luke had decided he wanted a one-on-one chat so badly.

"If this is an attempt to recruit me again, forget it." I remembered the bitterness in his face when he'd summoned that pit scorpion to poison me. I wasn't fooled by any act he might put on now, acting like we'd once been friends. I'd looked up to him, sure: but he'd regarded me first as disposable, then an object of envious hatred. He'd been Annabeth's friend, though, even something like an older brother to her; and I knew his betrayal had cut her far deeper than it had me.

"There's a little more to it than that." Luke was _very_ close. "I've got a lot to offer, you know?"

"You tried to get me killed," I pointed out again. "Hey, get off!" I struggled against Luke's hand, which was suddenly pressing my thigh. "Don't touch me!"

But Luke was leaning in, in.

"I'm serious," he insisted.

"So am I!" I fought him then, really fought him, not caring if this was a dream or that I didn't have a weapon: but Luke pinned me easily with his greater height and weight and experience. I kept struggling anyway, but Luke just let me exhaust my strength. Stupid of me, really - I should have pretended to give in, and conserved my energy for the right moment to take advantage.

I felt small underneath Luke, even though I'd had a growth spurt recently. I could feel his body over mine, giving off heat and pushing me down into the bed. My mind swam with animal fear. Luke was looking into my face, not even breathing hard. I could see the way the scar wasn't a totally clean line but slightly jagged, where the flesh had knitted back into place. I looked at that scar instead of looking at his blue eyes, which felt like they were burning through me.

That was the moment, though I didn't know it, that things slipped way out of my control.

"You're not a bad kid, you know, Percy?" Luke was speaking quietly. The movement of his mouth deformed his scar, pulling at the healed flesh. "And you've got so good with a sword...There's more out there for you, beyond Camp."

"I told you not to bother with the recruitment speech," I croaked. There was something weird about Luke's demeanour, but I couldn't place it. He was still pinning me to my bed, of course, which didn't improve the situation. Maybe I should just try to wake up? I can usually wake myself up from dreams if I know they're dreams, but no amount of pulling myself towards consciousness seemed to work. Or maybe I could change the dream by concentrating hard - again, I could usually do that - and get Riptide back, so we'd be on more equal ground? But no matter how I tugged at the fabric of my subconscious, I was stymied. Sure, this was supposedly my dream; but I definitely wasn't in control.

"It's true," Luke insisted. He was so close that I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. "You'd be great, Percy, I know you would."

A tiny part of me, a part I thought had been destroyed forever, thawed at hearing this. No, my weakness! Luke Castellan smiling at me and giving me his cool, honest approval! It really was only a tiny part of me: my hero-worship for Luke had been burnt up pretty comprehensibly. But I felt a little pang of acknowledgement, and I hated it.

Then he leaned in further. It took me a moment to work out that the darkness and the pressure against my lips meant that he was kissing me. I worked it out pretty quick when his tongue squirmed thickly against my lips and parted them to invade my mouth.

I was so shocked that I bit his tongue. Luke shot backwards, hand over his mouth - but I could see it was open in a snarl. I don't think I bit hard enough to draw blood, but it was the first pain I'd successfully inflicted on him. He stared at me for a long moment with furious, lambent eyes.

And I knew, with horrible clarity, exactly what Luke meant to do to me.

I say _exactly_ \- something like that, anyway. It wasn't like I'd ever done it before. But I knew how things worked, and I could make an educated guess at what Luke's intentions were.

I struggled again, but it was no use. Even aside from the advantages Luke's extra seven years on me brought, it was more than just experience or superior reach: he seemed supernaturally strong and fast, more like a movie superhero than 21-year-old son of Hermes. I had no chance. Luke stripped me of the boxers I'd worn to bed, holding my wrists above my head with one big hand.

"You'll like it," he told me, confidently. I hoped my bite to his tongue had made it painful for him to talk. He seemed huge, looming over me like that, and my scheming brain was working ten to the dozen trying to work out a way to get me out of this. Unfortunately, it was coming up with zilch. I tried to draw my knees together, but Luke was already lying between my thighs, crushing me into my mattress. I let out an unhappy moan. Oh God, was that a boner I felt? Was I feeling Luke's boner through his jeans, rubbing against my thigh?

My mind went to places I was trying to keep it from going. Panic won't help, I told myself firmly, but I could feel atavistic terror rising in my chest. Luke had me pinned to a bed, minus my pants. I was pretty sure he was hard. There was only one way this was going, and it was up somewhere I didn't want to think about.

Luke was making soothing noises, or noises he thought were soothing. His hand was hot on my bare thigh, rubbing it, trying to encourage me to relax. He was lying between my thighs, forcing them open, and still holding my wrists above my head, so I was completely pinned. I tried to kick him in the kidneys, but I couldn't get enough leverage, and he just ignored it.

"Get off!" I said again, frantic. Luke kissed my cheek, sloppily, because I was trying to twist my neck away from him. He was still acting like he could make me enjoy this. All I could think of was what he wanted to do to me, how much it would hurt, and the morbid fear that I would cry.

He reached between our legs and there was shuffling. I instinctively tried to close my legs, but of course, since he was in between them, that didn't work. I heard the sound of a zip, and realised that Luke must be undoing his jeans to get his - I shied away from the thought - to get it out. I was bare from the waist down, and the idea of his dick touching any part of me made hot animal fear pulse through my body.

"Stop fighting," said Luke, breathlessly. "You'll see, you'll like it, I promise. You'll see." His hand closed over my dick, and I went limp under him. I was very aware of how vulnerable I was.

Luke's touch was gentle, careful. He played with my dick like it mattered to him that I got hard, like he really did mean it when he said he'd get me to like it. Nobody had ever touched me like that before - I was fifteen and a complete virgin - and I couldn't find the words to describe it, even in the privacy of my own head.

It did get me hard, though. I could feel my dick responding to Luke's touch, and felt hot sick shame squirming in the pit of my stomach. I hated it, but my body was reacting without my thinking about it or wanting it. That made it worse, as if Luke knew what my body liked better than I did. He touched me so confidently, as if my body was his to manipulate. It scared me.

Luke wasn't in a hurry, even though he was having to hold down my straining body. He acted like he had all the time in the world to molest me. My dick was getting harder in his hand, and I kept telling myself that it was just stimulation, it didn't mean anything. I got boners in math class, I mean, and I'm not some perv who jerks off to the cosine function.

Luke broke off fondling my dick and balls to start feeling up my chest, under my t-shirt. I guess it wasn't as awful, but it was still pretty gross. He was so confident about it. I got the feeling he liked having power over me.

He leaned over and kissed me again, though he wasn't stupid enough to try and put his tongue in my mouth. He just flicked it over my lips gently, like he was coaxing me to return the kiss. I growled in my throat, and when he pulled back he was smiling again. There was trembling in the pit of my stomach.

The weirdest thing was when he reached over and - look, everybody knows why a teenaged boy might keep a bottle of hand lotion on his dresser, and it's not to keep his hands nice and soft. So Luke reached over and got the little bottle and opened the cap and squeezed a bit out, and that was just really - I don't know, unsettling. I would have to throw that one out and use another brand, because now whenever i looked over at that bottle, I would think of this.

Finally, something nudged against my asshole. For a second it felt like nothing: then I realised that it had to be Luke's cock.

" _Stop it,_ " I demanded as forcefully as I could, but it came out weak and scared. No wonder Luke paid no attention.

It felt weird, and I mean _really_ weird. As far as I'm concerned, that part of my anatomy is exit-only, and the feeling of something trying to go _in_ was totally bizarre. I hated to show weakness in front of Luke, but I was desperately trying not to freak out. If I really couldn't get out of this - and I hadn't really accepted that, because I was usually great at somehow wriggling out of terrible situations unharmed - then I was determined to bear it with dignity. And that meant not breaking down and crying just because a guy was trying to stick his dick up my ass. I'd faced far scarier things and survived, I told myself; only the intimate violation made me feel kind of sick.

It did go in, though I was half-convinced it wouldn't. Surely, theoretically, this was how two guys did it, and willingly; but how could he do it if I didn't want it? Couldn't I clench tight enough to keep him out, so he just wouldn't be able to get his dick in and he'd have to give up? But no, he pushed, and I squirmed in his grasp but I couldn't shake him off or even move enough to get my ass away from his probing dick. He pushed the fat head into me, and it felt so awful and violating that I started crying. And I hated myself for crying, because I was trying so desperately to be tough.

Something that wasn't exactly pain spread through my lower body as Luke slowly, carefully slid the rest of his dick inside me. It was pressure, unbearable pressure in a place that felt like it shouldn't be touched, like having somebody stroke your eyeball. I almost wished he'd be rough - then I would have an excuse for welling up. I opened my eyes - I didn't know when I'd closed them - to watch Luke's face. I don't know what I'd expected to see - maybe an evil grin, maybe jealous anger - but Luke's expression was one of constricted pleasure.

When he got the whole thing inside, it was like a burning rod stuck up my ass. My gaze was transfixed by his face. Sometimes he bit his lip, sometimes he opened his mouth to take a shaky breath. His eyes were closed. I wondered whether he'd done this before. He sure seemed to know what he was doing to me.

Luke opened his eyes. I thought he looked a bit surprised. Then he smiled down at me, warmly. Like I'd agreed to this, or something. Like he wasn't still holding my wrists above my head. He leaned down and brushed a kiss against my mouth, which I kept firmly closed. I twisted my head to the side, but he just trailed kisses across my cheek, my ear. Like he thought he could patronise me or tease me.

When he thrust, I yelled. I couldn't help it. The feeling was so overwhelming, so unbearable, that I cried out. And once I'd opened my mouth, I couldn't stop the sounds from coming out of it. I manage to throttle my voice so I wasn't shouting, but that meant that when he thrust his hard cock into me again, I let out a guttural noise. It wasn't a moan of pain, more like there just wasn't any room left for air with his dick inside me, so I had to yelp. Every thrust punched these low agonised sounds out of me. It sounded pornographic, which made it worse. I was still crying.

After a few thrusts, Luke let go of my wrists. I went for him - or tried to. He knocked me back as easily as a cyclops with a goat, and leaned forwards so I couldn't get leverage with my hands between us to push him away. No matter how I hit at his back, he didn't even seem to feel it. He might as well have been made of stone. It was like he was invulnerable.

Without having to keep my wrists pinned, Luke was free to take hold of my hips and _really_ fuck me. I moaned unhappily as he drew back, then rammed into me deeper than before. That did hurt, now, a dull ache between my hips. A few more tears leaked from my eyes. At least I wasn't sobbing.

Luke's body arched, and I felt his hand stroke across my stomach, which instinctively flinched. He took hold of my cock, which was still half-hard despite my mind's feelings on the matter. It made it worse to have him trying to make my body enjoy the violation.

He stilled, which at least let me catch my breath - but only so he could manipulate my dick more easily. He played with it, and I could feel it getting harder in his hand. His hard cock was still buried in my ass, and it seemed to throb inside me. I tried desperately to will my dick soft - thought of anything that was usually a total boner-killer - but all I could focus on was Luke's touch coaxing it to strain in his hand.

"It's wet," he murmured, and my whole face _burned_ as he spread precome round the head with his thumb. Fine, my body was reacting without my consent, and that was humiliating enough without a running commentary. "See? I can make you feel good," he added. His face was very close to mine, and I wondered if I should just headbutt him. His blue eyes bored into mine, and his face was set in a sympathetic smile.

I turned my face away again to stare blindly at my bedroom wall. It had the little hairline crack in the paint I often noticed when I was struggling to fall asleep at night - as was more frequent, these days. If I passed out right now, would Luke stop? Or would he just molest my unconscious body? Stupid question - I was already unconscious and at Luke's mercy.

Luke began to move inside me again with slow rolls of his hips. His thrusts made a noise, a dirty wet noise that made my ears burn. It didn't hurt any more, and I could bear the pressure a little better. The fact that he was trying to be 'kind' to me didn't actually make it any better, and I refused to be pathetically grateful for his attempt to make me enjoy being raped. What kind of porn video did he think we were in, exactly? Was I supposed to start moaning about how big his dick was and spontaneously orgasming?

Luke's big dick was settling my insides trembling. I didn't recognise it as pleasure, at first: just pressure and a weird shivery feeling in my legs, which were spread wide around Luke's hips. His hand was still around my dick, not pumping or stroking it, just holding it and letting it slip through his grip with his thrusts. I felt it dribble a little bit more precome onto Luke's fingers, and was mortified.

I connected the dick up my ass with the weird feeling when Luke shifted my ass a bit higher and his dick hit something inside me that made me see stars. Oh shit, my dick was _rock_ hard. I let out a hoarse gasp. Luke smiled, and I hated him even more. What had he done to me?

He did it again, and I whimpered. Oh great, I was back to sounding like - well, like the porn I'd just been scorning. It just felt so incredible, like something was stroking my dick but from the _inside_.

But Luke was still talking.

"Told you," he said breathily. Why had I turned to look at him again? His eyes kept drawing me in. "Only I can give you this. I _know_ you, Percy. How could I make you feel this good if I didn't?"

I moaned unhappily, but it sounded just like my other moans of pleasure. I couldn't control my voice any more. There was definitely no way I could talk with that mind-shattering pleasure rocketing up my spine with Luke's every thrust.

"I know you've wanted this for _ever_." Luke's voice dropped further. His understanding smile was more of a smirk. "You used to look at me training, when I took my shirt off. I saw you."

I wanted to protest that it had never been like that, but I couldn't get the words out between my panting breaths. And a tiny part of me was fearful that it was true: that there really had been something else to my admiration of Luke than just thinking he was cool. That maybe his fit bare torso _had_ stirred something in my adolescent brain.

"Come with me." Luke was losing his breath too, just a little. "We're strong - we're _right_. Join us, Percy." The understanding smile was back, but his face was contorted in a grimace of pleasure as he kept ramming his dick up my ass, like he was getting closer to coming.

I'd nearly stopped crying by this point, but hearing Luke so bluntly lay out his plan, trying to convince me to join Kronos, playing on the sick admiration I'd never wanted him to know about and thought he'd never noticed - it was more than I could take. I burst afresh into silent, racking tears.

And Luke didn't stop. His big hand came up to my face - I flinched - his warm fingers wiped away the tears. My eyes were screwed tight shut. But he kept moving in and out of me, wringing pleasure from my helpless body. He was pretending to care, to have any softer feeling for me at all - and there I was, a hole to fuck, a recruit to convince. If I could have spoken, I would have begged him to get off me.

My dick was stiff and throbbing between our bodies, and even though Luke was no longer touching it, I felt it jerk whenever Luke's big cock hit that spot inside me. My whole body felt loose, penetrable. Like I was meant for this. Luke thrust into me with no resistance. His thrusts were speeding up, his breath coming in fast pants. He was going to - fuck, he was going to come in me. After everything he'd done to me already tonight, that was the final humiliation.

But pressure was building in my abdomen too, winding tighter and tighter. I tried desperately to fight it, but there was no escape: just mechanical reflex to stimulus, I told myself, as my balls tightened and my dick throbbed like it was going to explode.

I came explosively, without anything touching my dick. Just that maddening pressure of Luke's thrusts lighting me up inside, rubbing that spot that made pleasure shoot straight up my spine and my dick twitch. I tensed and shook all over and my mouth opened in a silent agonised gasp as my balls emptied and all my nerve endings fired. Coming felt like it lasted forever, and whenever I was about to come down, Luke's dick would strike that spot again and my poor dick would spurt another dribble of come.

Luke groaned something, I don't know what, something obscene and I didn't want to hear it - and he went still, his grip on my hips trembling tight. His body shook against mine. I let out an unhappy moan as his dick throbbed inside me. Now that I'd come, it felt huge and intrusive and weird, and I felt a few more tears leak out of my tightly-shut eyes.

Luke collapsed on me. He didn't pull out. He pressed kisses to my face, my ear, my hair, any part of me he could reach, in a parody of tenderness.

"You were so good," he assured me, in between kisses. "Now you see what I can give you..."

HIs voice faded. His touch faded. I opened my eyes to my own bedroom - real, this time. Luke wasn't there, of course, though I'd been half-expecting to wake up to him bending over me in the cool moonlight. There was the hairline crack, there the balcony windows, left open a crack to catch the nighttime breeze. The exact same room. Luke had probably just recreated it from my own memories: but the idea that he might have just snuck into my house instead stuck in my mind and unsettled me even further. I couldn't even begin to lie to myself that that had been the product of eating cheese before bed.

I needed a glass of water, and maybe to wash my face. The dream had left me sweat-soaked and queasy with the remnants of fear. I raised my hand to brush hair out of my eyes, and discovered that they were hot and damp. I'd been crying in my sleep, just like I had in the dream.

I pushed back the covers and threw my legs over the side of the bed to force myself upright. The change in position and proof I could move under my own power helped me shake off some of the unsettling vestiges of the dream.

When I got up, my legs were stiff and a little shaky, and I stumbled - and felt it. Sick terror filled my stomach once more. I _knew_ I was awake, I knew it - but if I was awake -

I hot-footed it to the bathroom. In the mirror, I looked as confused and disheveled and sick as I felt. I pulled down my pants and reached between my thighs to catch some of the liquid with my fingers.

It was exactly what I thought it was: viscous, pearly. Luke's come was leaking out of me.


End file.
